Plus One
by GoinnGaGa
Summary: Brady Fuller is one of the top wedding planners but simply hasn't had enough time to find love for himself. But with a Plus One invitation, and a week to spend with a man he's never met, will Brady finally get a happily ever after of his own?
1. Prologue

**Plus One**

_**Pairing: Brady/Paul**_

_**Rating: M**_

_**Genre: Drama/Romance**_

_**Summary: **_**Brady Fuller is one of the top wedding planners but simply hasn't had enough time to find love for himself. But with a Plus One invitation, and a week to spend with a man he's never met, will Brady finally get a happily ever after of his own?**

_**Disclaimer for entire story: I don't own Twilight. All those rights belong to S.M.**_

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

It really wasn't supposed to happen like this. This was just supposed to be another job—for the both of us.

I was supposed to make sure that everything went through for the wedding without a hitch, every flower was in the right shade, every groomsmen knew to stay away from the bridesmaids until after the ceremony—hell, I even had to make sure that the groom's brother's wife's parents were to have minimal contact through the three days that we would be on location for the wedding! And all of this was going to be simple for me, a routine that I'd come to know very well and master. It was my job, for fuck's sake! I was, no, I _am_ one of the best wedding planners in the states—planning the Hale-McCarty wedding would be a cinch for me on any other occasion.

But _him_…I hadn't known him for more than a few days and I felt as if I'm—_no. _I'm not going to let myself say it because if I say it, then it will make this whole situation harder than it already is. And lord, more than just the situation was hard as I allowed him to unbutton my wet shirt and pull it open to run his rough hands over my cold abdomen. The only noise I could possibly make was a whimper as he pulled my shirt off of me completely and pressed his own bare chest against my body. I'd seen it before, a lot actually since he was far from self conscious, but really, seeing and feeling were two different—and oh, if I thought it _looked_ good, then it felt _amazing_.

The next thing I knew, we were on the bed in a heap of bare, panting bodies, and tangled limbs. One of those big, warm hands gripped my wrists together, holding them down against the soft sheets that covered the mattress beneath us while the other coursed a trail down the length of my side and hip until he could grip behind my knee to hook it around his waist—my other leg following suit on its own after. With him settled between my legs, our groins grinding together in a slow motion that had my mind drifting into a haze. The pleasurable feel of his hands, of his mouth switching between my neck and lips, of his hard cock grinding against my own, of simply giving him control over the entire situation—of giving him control of _me_.

My mind seemed to slip in and out of a blanked out state as one moment we were rubbing against each other, and the next it seemed as if he was slowly moving his hardened arousal in and then out of my awaiting heat.

My nails dug into his back and scalp as I simply moaned and writhed beneath his bulky, powerful body. But the doubts, fears, and that nagging feeling was eating me up inside; fighting the pleasures that I was being given in an attempt to ruin this moment for me. I couldn't help it, fight it, or deny it. Not in this moment, not with his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of my neck. Not when I was completely open to him—completely vulnerable—there for him to see, for him to judge.

I was in love with this man.

I wanted so badly to just let go of my inhibitions and fears, and just enjoy this moment for what it was. But I couldn't. The man I loved was an escort, and I was nothing but a job to him, a paycheck, really. By the end of the week, he'll be gone, back to his original business and he'll have taken my heart with him.

And as his sweet whispered nothings were processed in my mind, taken into my system, engraved onto my heart, I did what I'd tried to keep from doing since we started.

I broke.

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><p><em><strong>So…what do you guys think? Continue worthy or what? Haha<strong>_

_**Notoriously Yours,**_

_**GoinnGaGa**_


	2. The Invitation

**Plus One**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**_

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><p><strong>The Invitation<strong>

_Crap, crap, crap, crap, oh crap!_

The train of words ran through my head as if it were the chorus to my favorite song. But it's not like I was simply going insane, running around a floral shop digging through every bouquet, storage fridge, and display case in the two story building for no reason. Oh no, I had a _very_ good reason to do such things. As a wedding planner, it's my job to make sure that everything went smoothly to leave the bride and groom with minimal stress as the days led to their special day. I simply take in all their dreams, fantasies, and preferences and turn it into a wedding. Of course, there are presentations, consultations, meetings, tastings, etcetera; but really, I have the final say and I take the blame for every detail that goes wrong in said plans. So of course, when it comes to the wedding of Rosalie Hale and Emmett McCarty—my boss' nephew—I would settle for nothing less than perfection. So, when the bride specifically asked for white roses with absolutely _no_ yellow hue, and the florist shows me her bouquet of white roses with a bright yellow hue…well, you bet your single ass I'm about to go hunt down every white rose in the shop to make an appropriate bouquet before she—and my boss—arrives.

_There's some! _I told myself mentally as I began climbing over multiple buckets of water and flowers to get to the bucket that held a bouquet with at least six hue-free white roses. It was difficult to bend down into an awkward looking squat before bending over to pick out the flowers so that I wouldn't be messing up the flowers in the surrounding buckets. I wasn't too sure of how the owner of this shop would feel about me plucking flowers from a previously arranged bouquet, but I wasn't too sure whether or not I gave a shit or not either.

Or at least, that's what I liked to tell myself.

I was shot out of the small inkling of that state of mind when I heard the click of heels on the tiled floors along with hushed voices growing near. In a panicked state, I jumped up and raced out of the maze of buckets and just when I thought I was home free, my foot knocked one bucket over releasing a rush of water as flowers slid along the now wet floor—along with myself, naturally.

So pulling myself up to sit on my haunches, my pants being soaked in the puddle of water that—in my opinion seemed obscenely large for a bucket—now occupied the ground beneath me.

"Brady, sweetheart, what are you doing?"

Making my posture straight, and keeping my head held high, I met my boss' curious gaze with a small smile, "Well, Mrs. Cullen…eh…" Picking up one of the ruined white roses I'd found and holding it up for her to see, "the roses had a yellow hue, and so we were looking for other white roses and…yeah. So, I'll have to order some in, but don't worry, the bouquet will be ready for the wedding even if I have to make the bouquet myself." I assured as I stood and brushed random petals and leaves from my soiled black pants and white button-up.

"Are you alright?" The concerned looking blonde asked from behind my boss.

Rosalie Hale was by anyone's standards, drop dead gorgeous—and to others' standards, pure perfection. I was one of the people that thought she was perfect. From every golden strand of hair on her head, down to each painted toe-nail tucked away in her Christian Louboutin stilettos, Rosalie Hale screamed beauty. At the same time, every pore exuded power that made even the most confident of men bow down when she wanted them to. In short, she was the ideal woman, with a successful modeling career and two best selling romance novels under her belt with a third on the way; not to mention the numerous charity events that she'd put together to form the three centers for helping battered and abused women and helping them move forward with their lives. She was a force to be reckoned with, and honestly, she intimidated the hell out of me.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine, just wet." I muttered, dropping my gaze from hers.

She giggled before coming to gently place her hand on my shoulder and pull my gaze back to hers, "Stop worrying so much; you're doing an amazing job as my wedding planner. And besides, if you're not wet, then obviously something isn't right." She added with a wink, "Now, we're gonna go, and get you a towel so we can go and see how all the different arrangements look."

Once the actual meeting that we were all there for had begun and the florist began showing us her ideas for the arrangements using the flowers that Rosalie had requested. Doing my job was easy when the wife was decisive and cutthroat as this bride was, things went quick and there was no waffling between one choice or the other or whether or not she would settle for something that she didn't want, nor did she keep comments to herself. When a bride, or on some occasions the groom, didn't like something as much as she should, it didn't do anyone any favors and usually ended up having the blame pushed on me for not having the telepathic capability to read the person's mind to know that he or she didn't like it. But, when the person speaks up about their dislike or anything that they may have concerns about, I can change it to fit their vision.

"Well," I began as I closed the portfolio folder that had all the details and contracts from each vendor and what not and stood, trying to ignore the nasty feel of my still wet clothes, "now that this is done, the last thing is really to just decide on your wedding cake and the bachelor and bachelorette parties. The fitting for the wedding dress and the bridesmaid's dresses will be held in Forks once we get there. The groom and his men have already had their fitting and the suits are sealed away and waiting to be delivered."

"Alright, it seems as though I've got nothing to worry about." Rosalie smiled as she stood, her soon to be aunt-in-law stood with her, "Except for one thing."

"I'm sorry?"

"You seemed to have made a mistake and forgot to send one invitation." She informed me, digging into her purse before pulling out a white envelope and held it out.

Reaching for it, I jumped straight into the apologies for the mistake I'd seemed to have made, "I really thought that I'd sent out all of them, I'll just get an address for Mr. Ful-" I stopped short as I saw my name engraved in black on the envelope.

"Of course, you don't necessarily need to read the invitation to know the details, but just know that that invitation is a plus one, and I do sincerely hope that you'll bring a special man along for the small three day vacation." She said with a small smile.

"Oh, thank you so much, but I really can't, I mean, I'll be wor-"

"Ah! Don't you worry about that! I've already called in for a small team to come in and take over for you so that you can enjoy the wedding and reception as well as the brunch on the day before." Esme Cullen spoke now with a smile that matched Rosalie's. "You've proved to me that your work is magnificent with this project as well as all of those before it, and Rosalie has taken a liking to you, so we'd love it if you had the chance to wind down and relax a bit. As our guest."

"Oh, thank you." I murmured, dropping my gaze back down to the envelope.

"So, do you have any idea who you might ask to come along?" Rosalie asked as we stepped out of the flower shop, a certain curiously gleeful edge in her voice.

"Uhm…"

"Oh, Rose dear, I'm sure our dear Brady has a boyfriend that would love to come along, right dear?"

Actually, no. I've been single for…well…a while. And my first thought when they'd mentioned a plus one was my best friend, Seth or maybe Collin. And if I knew one thing about my boss, it's that Esme Cullen likes to play matchmaker for her employees. While majority turned out successful, I had a bad past with set ups and preferred not to go down that route. So of course, the only solution here was to lie.

"Of course I do. I'll ask him right away."

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><p>"<em>Oh, I should've just told her the truth and let her set me up with someone! Now what am I supposed to do? I can't just show up alone, and I don't want Seth to show up with me and have Esme think we're together. And then you said that you can't go with me! I mean, even if I was willing to say 'oh, yeah me and Seth are dating', he's not even my type! And we're both bottoms! What the hell kind of sex will I be having if my boyfriend likes to have a dick shoved up his ass too?"<em>

Embry Call listened to the rant with an amused smile as he sat alone in a corner table of a coffee shop that he liked to stop by every now and then after a long day at work. Brady had called him a little over thirty minutes ago asking him if he would go with him for a three day weekend. As much as Embry would've loved to take a break from work and go with him, he just couldn't. He was in the middle of an important trial at work and had to stay to run through the evidence and statements before the first day of trial came around since the request for dismissal had been denied.

"Brady, do you trust me?" He asked seriously after he listened for a moment longer, struck by a brilliant idea.

"_Of course I do, Bry. Why else would I have called to ask for your legal wised mind for advice?"_

"Then I'll get a guy for you. Alright?"

"_Er…okay?"_

"Alright then, I'll call you tomorrow." And with that he hung up before running through his contacts until he found the number that he'd been looking for.

He listened to the ringing tone for a few seconds before the even, calm, sultry voice answered with a cool, "Embry, how are you dear?"

"I'm as good as you remember, Tannya."

"Hm, I'm sure. To what do I owe the pleasure? I don't remember needing any legal help as of late."

"Ah," He smiled and cleared his throat for a bit of time before stating simply, "well, I'm calling to ask for your services…or rather…the services that only the Denali business can provide for me."

"Oh, really?" She sounded excited, only breaking her cool façade to show that bit of excitement, "So you've finally decided to come to me for some company, have you?"

"We'll discuss the details when I meet you at the office. It's still early enough for that, right?" Embry asked, jerking his arm to tug his sleeve back enough to check his watch. It was barely six thirty seven.

"For you darling, of course it is. You remember how to get to the offices, don't you?"

"Of course; I'll see you soon Ms. Denali." He tried for that cool tone that she had given to him and anyone she'd ever talked to, but it didn't work out. If Embry was anything, he certainly wasn't cold. He was one of the most kind people that practically everyone he knew would tell you that much.

"Looking forward to it, Mr. Call."

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><p><em><strong>AN: Alright! SO yea…continue worthy or what? Aha how do y'all feel about this? Ahaha lemme know with a review!**_

_**Notoriously Yours,**_

_**GoinnGaGa**_

_**Working on Lollipop Luxury next!**_


	3. Day One

**Plus One**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait!**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**_

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><p><strong>Day One<strong>

Why do people try and surprise others with random visits in early hours of the morning? I don't understand it. It's like, I work every day, so I'm tired and want to take the time to sleep in when I can get it. I really don't want to have to wake up and entertain some guest; no, I'd rather be sleeping in my big cozy California King sized bed. I hadn't splurged on this damn bed for nothing, right? I'm definitely not using it to have sex in, and I barely manage to get some six hours of sleep on a daily basis if I'm lucky and don't have a sudden panic attack with the upcoming wedding that I'm working and pull an all-nighter going over every last detail. But today, all I had to do was meet the bride and groom at the baker's for a cake tasting and consultation at two o'clock. It was barely nine in the morning.

After the person knocked for the sixth time, obviously not getting the hint to go away, I threw the plush white comforter away from me and got up to pad my way to answer the door, grumbling under my breath the entire way.

"Who is it?" I shouted as pressed my ear against the heavy door to try and hear a response since there were no little peep-holes in the doors in my building.

"Embry!"

The muffled reply at me pulling my door open, ready to rip my friend a new one for having interrupted me while I was sleeping; especially too since he knew how stressed I was about the plus one invitation. But when I opened the door and saw that he had someone with him, I quickly shut my mouth and pushed the urge down my throat.

"Embry…and…Embry's friend." I murmured, the question of _who__the__fuck__is__this__guy_ insinuated within the small greeting.

"Paul." The man corrected, his sultry, rough, baritone of a voice sending a small shiver down my spine as he eyed me with a nonchalant and uncaring gaze as he leaned casually against the wall of the hall opposite my door, hands buried in the pockets of his leather bomber jacket, looking warm with a gray hoodie visible under it. He looked totally arrogant to me, but for the rest of the world he was nothing but another confident guy with a big body and a roughly handsome face.

"Oh, well…Embry and Paul then." I said, keeping an even and calm tone to show my slight frustration with the situation. "Excuse me for being blunt, gentlemen, but what the hell are you doing here at nine in the morning?"

"Well, you asked me to find you a date right? So…I did." Embry informed with a triumphant grin curving his lips as he jingled his keys in the pocket of his charcoal suit.

"You picked some random guy up off the street!"

_Paul_, as he informed me his name was, scoffed with a small amused curve to his sensuous lips as his head rest back against the wall too, "Well, it wasn't exactly off the street."

"Well, if you don't mind letting us in, I'd rather explain everything in there instead of out in the hall of your apartment building.

Even though I wasn't too sure if I liked the idea of Paul in my apartment—or anywhere near me for that matter—I still moved away from the door, leaving them to follow me as I made my way into the living room.

I was a neat freak. Everything in my apartment had a place to be, and remained there unless I was currently using it. Every pillow had its place, and if you found a speck of dust on any surface in here I'd probably go on a cleaning rampage through the entire house. I only had one white couch, with baby blue throw pillows directly across from the small flat screen I'd decided to buy for the living room. A small glass coffee table with a vase of red roses centered on it was between the two and that was basically it for the front room. I didn't like putting a lot of effort into a place that I wasn't spending much time in.

I sat down and pulled my feet up on the couch with me to get them away from the cold of the hardwood flooring and waited quietly for the two men to file into the room before demanding an explanation for what was going on.

"Well," Embry began as he stood before Paul and I as we sat on separate ends of the couch, the coffee table separating us and him, "I felt bad that I wasn't going to be able to go to this little vacation thing with you, and I know how stressed out you get with things when it comes to your work; hence the reason for hiring Paul—so he can go with you and…er…fulfill a need if it should arise."

"Wait! _Hired_ Paul?" I asked incredulously, gesturing with a wild fling of my arm towards the man in question.

"Yes, hired, as in his job is to accompany you to whatever you may need him to within the week."

"Like a prostitute?"

"I prefer escort." He chimed in with his two sense has he seemed to have a habit of doing.

"Prostitute. Escort. Whatever! You're hired to go with me where I need to go and then…" letting my sentence trail off as an insinuation, "if I want it?"

"Well, yeah." Embry agreed, looking relieved as if he hadn't thought my understanding of the situation would be so simple.

I waited for a few seconds, both men's eyes on me, waiting to see if either of them would say anything while they waited for my reaction.

"You hired me a _prostitute_ to go with me to _my__boss__'_ nieces wedding?"

"Escort." Paul spoke again, sounding slightly frustrated.

"Yes." Embry answered simply, "He's very popular at his workplace, and who better to portray a perfect lover than a _professional_lover?"

"Embry…a pros-er…escort? Really?"

Then they both gave me this look, as if to say 'yes, get over it.' But it wasn't like I would just get over the fact that one of my best friends had just hired me an _escort_—as Paul insisted—to attend a business trip.

"No. No. No way. Take him back, I don't care." I said, standing up from the couch as if it would help my case any.

"Brady," Em began in a tone that made me feel like a scolded child, "I've already paid for his time, so you _will_figure out a way to make him work for that money. Get of your high horse—I don't really think you have any other options, do you? Right, now if you'll excuse me, I've a business meeting to attend."

I watched with my mouth agape as Embry closed the door to my apartment.

_Did he really just leave this guy here with me? In my apartment? Alone?_

"Are you trynna catch flies, or what?" His question had my mouth shut in a quick second while at the same time answering my question.

_Yes, yes he did._

Turning to glare at him, I placed my hands on my hips, "You were supposed to be gone with him." I gestured vaguely in the door's direction for emphasis.

He simply snorted and lazily lifted a shoulder, "All I know is that I was hired to play boyfriend for you for the week. The money was paid up-front, so even if you do decide that you want me to go home; I get a week from work and a check. So, far be it from me to try and help you out when you obviously have issues when it comes to getting a man."

"I do not have a problem finding a man!"

"Oh really? Then why am I here."

I wasn't prepared for that question so I was taken aback and had to take a second to gather my wits before crossing my arms, "I don't know." A brilliant comeback, really. "Especially since…I'm actually talking to a guy." Hm, now I know what LiLo was talking about it _Mean__Girls_ when she mentioned 'Word Vomit'.

As he got to his feet and began slowly stepping towards me I took steps back until I was pressed against a wall. He stood before me, heat radiating from his body to mine with only a few inches between our bodies. He leaned forward to rest his forearm casually on the wall, causing his face to be even closer than that rest of him; his warm breath fanning over my face and I tried my damnedest to keep my eyes from fluttering closed. _Tried_, being the operative word there.

"And what, may I ask, is this guy's name?"

I made the mistake of inhaling deeply, having my senses flooded with the unbelievably musky, spicy scent of him; my breath coming out in a breathless sigh. My eyes roamed the rough featured of his face; the straight curve of his noise, the perfect angle of his jaw, his cheek bones, and—_oh__lord!__—_those eyes! They were so dark, almost black, but the brown was there to pull me further and further in. Making me lose myself.

God, he was so attractive…and tall too. Even though he was leaning towards me he still had to slightly look down as I had to look up.

"Well?" His eyebrow quirked as an amused curve touched his lips; the fullness of them making me want to throw caution to the wind and press my lips against his just so I could say I know how they would feel against mine. "Does this guy have a name or what?"

Even the way his mouth moved when he talked threatened to send my stomach to a mess of knots at the pure sensuality of it all.

"H-His name is…Jimmy."

"Mhm, and does Jimmy have a last name?"

"Yes, he does…"

The pointed look he gave me was enough for me to know that he wasn't going to simply let the topic drop at that.

"It's…Lopez. His name is Jimmy Lopez." I threw the name out there as, for some reason, I had been thinking of listening to the Puerto Rican pap-star's music at some point in the day somewhere in the back of my mind.

"Alright, so why don't you simply Mr. Lopez up right now and ask him to go on this little trip with you? Hmm?"

"Because…er…" with a huff I let my head rest back against the wall, mentally berating myself all the while, "Fine! Because he's not real, okay? Happy?"

"Ecstatic." He let out a brief chuckle, pushing away from the wall to move back to the couch to sit, "Do you mind if I watch some TV? It'll keep me occupied so you could go back to sleep or whatever; I'll keep the volume low for you."

I tried to find any sort of teasing in his tone, but really only found what I thought to be genuine consideration and my tension eased a bit, "Sure, go ahead; but how did you know I was sleeping?"

Bending to pick up the remote from the glass table before him, he shrugged before saying in an even tone, "I just assumed that you're not the type of person that would walk around his empty apartment in nothing but some short, tight black briefs and nothing else…oh, and you have bed head kinda."

With a start I looked down at my body and sure enough, there was the slight outline of my growing arousal straining against the black material. I ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to tame it into something somewhat acceptable looking, "Er…well…I'm certainly awake now."

"Don't be embarrassed…you look good."

Again, he shocked me with the genuine tone of his voice—although I will say that the compliment to my body both shocked and embarrassed me even more.

A blush tinted my cheeks, "Well, I should go take a shower anyway." But just before I left the room I turned back to gaze once more at the man that had been so abruptly pushed into my life this morning, taking in his relaxed form while he clicked through the various channels, "Thank you…for the compliment I mean. I…I haven't heard anything like that in awhile. And no I'm just embarrassing myself even further by saying I haven't had a man compliment me in awhile, so I'll just stop talking and go shower now."

"Hey, don't worry about it, alright? I was just being honest; I know I'm kinda a stranger right now, but if things continue as planned, then you don't have to be embarrassed with me. So relax." His voice was so even all the time, it left me wondering just how long it had taken him to be able to keep emotion from showing up in his tone and expressions, wondering if it was something that he just had to learn for the job. "You mind if I raid the kitchen? I was kinda pulled away from breakfast."

"Uh, no…go ahead. I'll just be in the bathroom." I made to walk away again and actually made it to the hallway cupboard at the end of the hall where I kept all my towels before turning just in time to catch him making his way to the kitchen entranceway, "Paul!"

Backtracking a bit, he stood in the center of the hall and I didn't quite miss the way his eyes quickly ran down the length of my practically nude form before meeting my own gaze with a, "What's up?"

"Try to eat light, okay? I'm meeting the clients for lunch soon, and I figure that I might as well take you along and see if we could maybe make this work…i-if you don't mind of course."

"Right, so I'll eat light then." He said with a small smile before stalking back into the kitchen.

Once I was in the safe confines of my bathroom with the shower curtain pulled closed and the warm water spraying hard on my back I began berating myself for even considering accepting his help. I don't know what made me want to say yes to him, to accept his help, to let him watch my TV and eat my food. He was an escort! He did this for a living! Hell, how long has he been doing this? How many clients were before me? How many compliments had he given to the men or women before me in that same even tone, brought to a point of simmering arousal in a matter of minutes without the slightest touch, shown that small smile to when he got his way. And damn myself for even being attracted to him! For wanting him to grip me and pull me into a kiss that would have my toes curling and leave me breathless and begging for him to take me in any way he wanted. For being aroused by that man while the evidence was in such plain sight and feeling a sense of contentment when he told me I looked good; for simply _wanting_ him to want me! Hell, for wanting him in general! Ugh! Why did Embry have to know me so well, to pick out the guy that I'd be all over if I had met him in a gay club, fawning over if I'd seen him walking down the street. Damn him! This is his fault entirely for knowing exactly what guy I would find sexually attractive! I'm the victim here! And another thing; why did I even mention anything about _him_being okay with going out and doing his job? I should be asking myself that question? In fact, I'll ask myself that question right now.

_Brady,_I thought angrily to myself as I massaged the shampoo into my scalp, _is__it__okay__with__you__to__take__an_escort_to__meet__your__boss__' __nephew__and__future__niece?_

Yes, I guess I might as well make him earn his paycheck. So it's decided then; Paul and I will be boyfriends for a week, and then break up over something…something that's totally his fault…something that makes _him_ look ridiculous…okay, no, I'm not that mean. I'll say it was a mutual split or something like that.

_As__for__the__sex,_ I thought as I brushed my teeth,_I__'__ll__show__him__the__best__sex__of__his__life__—__if__he__initiates__it!__I__am__not__about__to__go__and__try__to__start__trying__to__have__sex__with__an__escort.__If__he__wants__it,__he__'__ll__come__to__me_, I reasoned with a nod as I rinsed my mouth. I was a genius; I mean how many people would be able to reason with all of this in such a calm, collected manner as I've been doing all this time? Alright, so I freaked in the beginning, but that's in the past. I will not let this man see me being vulnerable, nor will I get emotionally attached—regardless of the way his looks make my stomach flutter or the way his scents makes me get half-hard—and I will keep my head held high and keep my dignity and pride throughout this whole experience—because that's what this is; an experience. An experience with an incredibly sexy escort that is willing to have sex with me if I want it…not that I want it that bad…even if it has been awhile since I've been with another man. Ah, damn it, now I'm hard just from thinking about having sex with him. _Don__'__t__touch__yourself__Brady,__do__NOT__masturbate__to__the__thought__of__an__escort-prostitute__having__sex__with__you.__Do__NOT__grip__your__dick__and__imagine__how__it__would__feel__for__him__to__kiss__every__inch__of__your__skin!_Ah hell, I was jacking off now. _No!__Brady,__remember__your__pride,__your__dignity!_With a frustrated grunt I allowed myself one last stroke before letting go and relaxing back against the cool wall of my bathroom which I had begun to lean back against when I started to jack off. Looking down at my stiff member, I pursed my lips.

"If he wants us, he'll come to us. Until then…we'll just have to suffer."

Wrapping my dark blue towel around my waist, making sure that my arousal was concealed enough for me to just make the quick bolt across the hall to my bedroom; I picked up my discarded underwear and pulled open the door. Head held high, I took the first step out and my wet feet slipped on the steam-slicked tile; before I knew what was what, I was laying face down half on the tile and the rest on the hardwood floors of my hall.

"Shit, Brady are you alright?" The rough voice I'd quickly become accustomed to was close before big hands were gently pulling me up, leaving my towel behind. "Oh…er…you want me to take care of that for you?"

Standing on my own now, his hands still lightly gripping my arms as he met my gaze with an amused look of his own, I used to underwear still in my hand to cover my stiff dick and remembered my plan to keep my pride and dignity. "Yup, just peachy-keen…now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch to prepare for."

Head held high, I walked stiffly—in more ways than one—to my bedroom, closing the door quickly behind me without looking back. If I had any pride or dignity left, I just lost it along with my towel.

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><p>I was still trying hard to explain to Paul exactly why I make so much as to where I could afford to pay for my apartment on my own, all the things in my apartment, and still have enough to own a Benz by the time we turned the car off and handed the keys to valet—he took the ticket as he was the one who had practically begged me to drive it. I got some of my lost pride back from that little situation back in the hallway of the apartment, the same situation in which Paul had decided to act as though nothing happened which also swayed my decision to both be grateful and allow him to drive my car.<p>

"People want their day to be perfect," I began again as we walked side by side towards the front of the restaurant as the parking was in the back, "so they pay up the ass to get perfection. No expense is spared, and trust me when I say, things get expensive. And while my boss get's a twenty percent cut from whatever the wedding brings in, I still get eighty percent. We usually use floral services that are connected to our company. We have designers brought in for the Brides' dresses, unless they choose to purchase their own dress away from the company. We have tailors that work for us to do everything concerning the tuxes and all that. Basically, we work with others that are associated with us, and we make money depending on how much work is put into the wedding. Sometimes people end up paying amounts that would seem outrageous to sane people, but the thing that sane people have to understand is, people planning a wedding are not sane. They're love-struck fools that fawn over the idea of a perfect wedding and are willing to pay a pretty penny to come as close to it as possible."

"I see." He nodded, and I tried to ignore how freaking sexy he looked, walking casually, confidently along with me in the same outfit from before, but with an added pair of mirrored Aviator sunglasses. "Oh hey, wait a minute." He suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned my body quickly to face his before gently pushing me up against the wall of the side of the restaurant.

I was about to demand an explanation for having been handled this way but my mouth shut just as quickly as the thought crossed my mind, eyes widening, and heart pumping unusually fast I noted the smoldering look he was giving me. He was still gripping my shoulders as he stepped closer, closer, closer still until his body stood as it had before in my apartment. I was taking deep breaths but still felt as if I wasn't getting enough air in my lungs as his hands moved slowly along my shoulders, gripping briefly before moving yet again to cup my cheeks and at that moment my breathing came to a complete halt. His head slowly made a descent, and my eyes drift closed as the feel of his breath and his scent washed over me in a strong wave that just oozed sex and sensuality. The erection that I'd managed to will away earlier was slowly coming back and only seemed to jump to full attention as the gentle press of his lips against my own sent jolts of surging pleasure through my veins. But that wasn't the end of it, it was as if the pleasure that had just been coursing through me was intensified, making my body give a soft tremor as he gave a harder press, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth before giving it a soft nip, then another, another, again, and again before running his tongue along the length of it and then swiftly, without meeting resistance, plunged into my mouth. He elicited a moan from my throat, swallowing it as it was pushed into his mouth and pushing another one back of his own.

I was completely still, letting him control everything with the lip lock, the movement of our tongues, and his exploration of my mouth. Everything he was doing was just pulling a stronger response from me, every swipe of his tongue, every nip to my lip, every soft brush of his thumb on my cheeks.

It was becoming dizzying, making me uneasy, nauseous, feeling unstable. Making me feel scared.

As if reading the concerned thoughts from my mind, he slowly pulled away, slowing everything, ending with a soft press of lips before resting his forehead against mine. We were both breathing heavy, and for reasons I didn't want to delve into, I hoped that the kiss had affected him in some way that would separate me from all the people that came before. Something that made me special, something that let me know that this kiss wasn't just a part of his job. I didn't want to know why, I just wanted to know if he wanted _me_ like I wanted him.

"There." He spoke with that even tone that had my heart dropping to my stomach, "Now, if we have to kiss later on, it won't be an awkward first kiss."

I dropped my gaze, eyes closed, lip worried between my teeth. I tried so hard to tell myself that I didn't care, to remind myself of my plan to not become affectionate with him in any way. I tried so hard to ignore the familiar way my heart clenched as pain coursed through me as pleasure had not long before. I tried so hard to figure out why I wanted to cry at the thought of being another job to this man, whom I'd only known for a few hours. I even tried to take in a deep breath to gather my scattered thoughts, but even that was too much for me to handle as my airways seemed tight.

"Alright, well, let's get inside then." I murmured, trying hard to avoid his gaze as I pushed him away from me to make way for me to practically jog away from that god-forsaken wall.

After asking the host to lead me to Rosalie's table, I rushed to them, not trusting myself to look back to see if Paul was even following behind at this point.

"Brady!" Rosalie exclaimed as she stood, brushing her wavy hair from her shoulder before opening her arms to hug me and place a soft kiss to my cheek, "So glad you could make it!"

"As if I had a choice." I murmured under my breath, feeling oddly bitter as I moved and offered my hand to Emmett McCarty who stood by his fiancé.

Emmett McCarty was, if I had to describe him to a stranger, a big bear like man. I mean, he was huge at a towering six-foot-four, and big build. But then his face softened the intimidating form just a pinch, with its baby-esque look, deep dimples when he smiled and the baby-blues that were nothing but friendly. Slapping my hand away, he pulled me into a tight bear hug, smashing me against his perfectly tailored suit covered body.

"Good to see you B!" He greeted, using the nickname he'd given me since day one of our meeting. "Oh, and who's your friend here?"

"Paul Meraz." That voice introduced himself as Emmett set me on my feet, "Brady's boyfriend."

"Oh!" They both sounded way too excited if you ask me, I mean, seriously, the guy wasn't all that great. Really.

"Wow B, you've got yourself a looker here!" Emmett laughed as he moved behind me to greet Paul I assumed, I wouldn't know since I'd taken my seat and refused to look back at him. "Emmett McCarty, a friend of Brady's and his current client. And this is my fiancé, Rosalie Hale, soon to be McCarty." You could practically hear the dimples in his voice, mixed in with some pride and joy that I couldn't help but roll my eyes at.

"Nice to meet you." Rosalie's voice had that edge to it that instilled the desired intimidation in a person. It actually had me perking up a bit. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you." I heard movement around me as Emmett pulled out Rosalie's chair directly across from me before settling in himself. "Hi babe." Paul tried greeting me and I felt him move in to kiss my cheek but I turned away, acting as though I was searching for a waiter to get a drink. Lord knows I need one.

Giving up my 'search', I turned back to the table and met Rosalie Hale's cool, calculating gaze head on before it moved to Paul. If anything, she knew _something_ was up, which was just the cherry on top of my shit sundae. If she found out what was really going on, not only would I be humiliated at her knowledge, but I'd probably be on the watch list for my boss since, no doubt, Rosalie would tell her.

"Right well," She began after we all ordered, "let's just get straight down to business, shall we?"

"Honey, can't we at least take a little bit of time to socialize before we start on the wedding stuff again?" Emmett sighed before taking a sip of his water.

"Well, Brady and I will discuss the wedding on _our__side_ of the table, and you can talk to Paul on _your__side_ of the table. Okay, dear?" She ended with a pointed look that must've held some kind of meaning because Emmett straightened and gave a small nod before turning to smile at Paul.

Throughout the meal, I was grateful that we didn't really get the chance to stop and socialize as we went through every last detail of the wedding to make sure everything was as it should be, if not then I'd have tomorrow to fix it. Halfway through, when Rosalie stopped to check her email for the caterer's finalized menu, I spared one glance at Paul. While he looked to be somewhat interested in his conversation with Emmett, he still noticed me looking almost instantly and turned to give me a small, almost apologetic smile. Almost.

* * *

><p>Throughout the rest of the day, we were going around running errands that I had to take care of. The conversation was down to a minimum, where I only spoke to him when necessary. He tried picking up conversation while driving more than a few times, but I was quick to end it with a short one word answer as I watched the city through the window of the car. Eventually, he only spoke when spoken to. It was bad that I was reacting so badly towards this whole situation, especially since I was the one that was willing to let him do his job; and that's all he did—his job. I shouldn't really be holding anything against him for that. So, once we got back to the apartment, we dropped off the bags of groceries in the kitchen and before I began putting everything away, I turned to look at Paul as he stood patiently in the entranceway of the kitchen, in practically the same uncaring stance as when I'd first seen him this morning.<p>

"I'm sorry that I've been acting rude, or unwelcoming, or inhospitable, or any other thing you can think of. It's just that, this wedding is important," I lied, "and I've got a lot on my mind, and so I'm stressing and that kiss made me think of how this situation could turn bad and…" now that I was actually beginning to tell the truth, I stopped myself short.

But again, I was hurt as he shrugged it off, stepping away from the wall to begin unbagging things, "Doesn't matter." He said plainly, evenly, coldly, with an edge.

I sighed and told myself to stop feeling guilty since I'd _tried_ to make amends. After everything was put away, I looked at the microwave's clock and saw that it was nine-twenty-seven; still kind of early, but I was exhausted. I announced my departure for bed, and when he asked to use the shower I threw a careless, "Help yourself," back over my shoulder before going in my room—leaving the door open just a crack as a habit from when I was a kid.

Stripping down, I could hear the shower starting from behind two closed doors and across the hall, and sighed as I climbed under the soft, plush, warm blankets and closed my eyes; willing my mind to stop and let me sleep, trying to focus on the feel of the sheets against my bare skin as I slept in briefs again. However, nothing could work, so I just focused—instead of falling asleep—on silencing my mind first.

My eyes were closed, so I didn't notice when the bedroom door opened, and didn't know someone was in my room until I felt the bed dip and sat up with a start, looking around the pitch black room for a quick second before quickly moving to turn on the small lamp on my nightstand, "Paul? What the hell are you doing in my bed?"

Subconsciously, I was happy he was here; although I couldn't pinpoint a specific reason why as I was clearly focused on the shocked and somewhat angry thoughts running through my mind at the sight of Paul, chest bare in all its mouth-watering-muscled glory, lying on the other side of my bed.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing? I'm going to bed."

"In here?"

"Well, no shit Sherlock! Where the hell did you think I was gonna sleep?"

"The couch."

"No fuckin' way! That shit is tiny! There's no way I'd be comfortable on that thing!"

I narrowed my gaze to a glare, which was hard to do considering I was totally eyeing his well-sculpted body, and wondering about the tribal tattoo that took up his upper right arm. "Fine, you want the bed? You can have it; I'll take the damn couch!"

"Ugh, you're so fuckin' difficult Brady!" And before I knew it, he had me pinned down on my back underneath him as he reached to switch off the light. I could feel his bare legs rubbing against my own and knew he was wearing briefs to bed as well and tried not to let my dick grow at the thought. "We're gonna share the damn bed, alright? I don't give a fuck if I have to fuckin' hold your ass all night to make sure you stay here." As if to show he was serious, he turned me so I was on my side with my back to him and encircled my waist with his tattooed arm before settling his body flush against mine. "Now, go to bed."

With a huff that I wanted to come out as sounding frustrated but came out as more of a dreamy sigh, I settled in a bit before the fleeting thought of, _Damn,__this__feels__so__goddamn__good_, crossed my mind, "Goodnight Paul…" I murmured breathlessly and figured he was asleep based on his even breathing, but was proven wrong when his soft lips pressed gently against the skin just beneath my ear.

He whispered, "Goodnight, babe."

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><p><strong>AN: WOOOP! Haha, so continue worthy or not? Please lemme know what you think in a review!**

**oxox**

**GoinnGaGa**


	4. Day Two

**Plus One**

**A/N: Just a little peak into what's coming…**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed**

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><p><strong>Day Two-Preview<strong>

Collin Cameron smiled sneakily as he pushed the front door of Brady Fuller's apartment open, Seth Clearwater hot on his trail.

It was currently eleven-forty-three and the fact that their friend wasn't around to buzz them into the building, nor to answer his phone, and hadn't opened the door—making them result to their back-up plan, the spare keys the resident have given each of them in case of emergencies—had the pair curious. Sure, Brady had been known to sleep in on occasion but he's usually wake up to answer the insistent ringing of his phone or a continuous knock at the door.

They had some news for him after all, and honestly, what kind of friends would they be if they made him wait to hear their news?

"What do you think he's doing?" Seth asked in a hushed whisper as he moved into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to raid its contents.

Collin had to shake his head at his partner-in-crime's actions. Seth Clearwater was a twenty six year-old co-partner in a bakery that was very well known for their heavenly cupcakes, alongside his sister. It started out as a small out-of-the-kitchen business, selling their goods in various cafes and birthday parties, etc. But after two years worth of hard work, they'd opened their own shop and pulled their cupcakes from the locations nearest to their store, _Vanity__Cakes,_while keeping their product in other places to keep consumers buying from a distance as well. But what really seemed to amaze the people that knew the young businessman, all business success aside that is, was the fact that he could shovel so much food into his system and maintain a lean, lithe body. When asked what his secret was Seth would simply shrug and say, "Good metabolism, I guess.

"Well," He asked as he shut the door with a soft kick as his hands worked open the wrapper of a Big-Stick, "what do you think he's doing?"

"Are really going to eat that?"

The male in question quirked an eyebrow and scoffed, "Nope, I'm gonna suck it 'till it blows a load all over my face."

With a roll of his eyes Collin tried to hide his amused chuckle by turning to slowly move down Brady's hallway towards his room, "You're gross. Just shut up and follow me."

"Bossy, much?"

Collin didn't even want to reply, just continued his sneaky trek toward the designated door. He paused for a moment to listen and turned a questioning look back to Seth as he mouthed, _Since__when__does__he__snore?_ To which Collin got a shrug and pursed his lips before turning back to slowly turn the knob of the door and push it open.

At a first glance into the six inch opening, Collin saw Brady resting peacefully on his back, his head resting up close to the dark wood headboard that matched everything else in his bedroom. With the faint thought of creeping up on their friend to scare him, the male in lead pushed the door open further but the full visual of the bed had him letting out a surprised, "oop!" as he jumped back, colliding with Seth and pushing him out of the room.

"What the heck! I thought we were supposed to be moving forw-"

Collin quickly reached forward to cover his friend's mouth with a hand as he held a finger to his lips with the other.

If there was anything that bothered Seth Clearwater, it was being shushed. And while he usually overlooked the occasional rude shush that he received every now and then, and given certain circumstances, he knew that a shush was warranted and so he'd quiet down. But when the hush was absolutely unnecessary, it irked the twenty-six year old to no end.

Glaring at Collin Cameron, Seth sent daggers and a warning through his eyes. He'd known Collin since his brother had dated his sister in their college years, during which time Seth and Collin were both seniors in high school—different schools though mind you. He, Collin, and Brady had been close from the get-go. Collin, however, was vastly different form Brady and himself in the sense that they had both come from hard-working families, or harsh pasts in Brady's case what with his mother abandoning him at such a young age. Collin, on the other hand, was a twenty-six year old trust-fund baby that didn't work out of necessity…oh no, he did things because he thought they'd seem fun—and that's if he wanted to work at all. While his great-grandfather had started a successful import-export industry and invested his money wisely, his grandfather and great-uncle had built on the Cameron fortune by expanding into a business—_Rogue__Inc._, one of the highest profiting international film-music producing companies in the world—while his own father had built once again on the family fortune by creating one of the hottest new hotel-casinos on the strip, _The__Rogue_. Given his inherited wealth, and clean, sophisticated, European attractiveness, you would think that he'd be content with his life; but as only Seth and Brady knew, that just wasn't the case.

Shoving his friend's hand out of his face, Seth pushed past him murmuring, "I don't know what the big deal is, let's just wa-…oh."

The words died on his tongue as he spotted Brady in the bed, but that wasn't what silenced him and Collin before him. What had them both staring, shocked and amused all at the same time, at the _other_ man in their best friend's bed.

They couldn't see much of him, only one side of his face and a tattooed and perfectly muscled bicep. That, Collin noted as he examined the rough, masculine features of the man who rested his cheek on their friend's chest as his arm was thrown casually over Brady's waist, was where the snoring had come from.

"That whore." Seth murmured quietly, patting himself on the back for the ability to crack a joke, given the situation.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Have I got you hooked yet? Haha, well maybe if I get enough reviews y'all will get the full chapter at the end of the week (Friday or Saturday)! haha**_

_**Notoriously Yours,**_

_**GoinnGaGa**_

_**P.S. SUGAR AND SPICE IS NEXT ON MY TO-DO LIST! I SWEAR! Haha**_


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